Groundhog's Doug
by All The Trees in the Field
Summary: it's a little rough in places but you get the idea.


Groundhog's Doug

Chapter One: The Boy Who Could Never Find Love

It was a dark and stormy night in the Funnie household. Literally storming in the house, shit was crazy. Judy had summoned the squall using her dark beatnick-magic powers and was holding the family hostage untilt her demands for more conga drums and french berrets was met. She had amassed a small army of household items in her room, the television was most missed but several other amenities of certain rituatlistic value to family were also trapped deep within the confines of her poetic pocket dimension. Theda Funnie had spent the night slumped against the door reciting an endless recitiation meant to calm the overly hormal girl and tempt her to step outside of her bedroom fortress. Phil Funnie was poised atop a fine oaken mantle just out of view with a large net, almost cartoonish in it's porportions, but nessecary in every way. He has not tired like his faitful wife had over the ordeal, in fact he felt energized by the thrill of the hunt. He had stripped down to his carefully maintained briefs and wore his entire necktie collection around his throat in a prideful imitation of the lord of the jungle, the mighty lion. They waited through the night and the severities of the growing storm until the morning, when contact was made to the outside world.

Luckily for the family, their neighbor, Mr Dink (A recent widower) was on hand to fork over such outragous (and very expensive) beatnik shit, which was lavishly embroidered with a fine beaded portrait of a man with soul patch to spare, symbolizing the opression of the beat generation from the man. Mr Dink also offered her a moderation spot on his proboard forum: Purple drank, the premire forum for discussion of activities along the range of very expensive to very hip. This was no coincidence, in fact it was a cleverly contructed ruse masterminded by none other than Doug Funney, who had come to believe that he had ascended human qualities and become a God. How did he come to this conclusion, you ask?

Douglas Yancey Funnie had been trapped in a time loop for over 4000 years. Every 13 years he is sent back to the moment he emerged from his mother's vaginal tract with a fully developed, 13 year old brain, every memory he has ever had remains in that pint sized skull of his and every 13 years he is sent back again. He has single-mindedly pursued the goal that haunts his every waking moment: The Heart of Patty Mayonaise. Little does he know that he is about to reach the end of this seemingly endless cycle.

[doug's situation is extrapolated on here]

Chapter Two: The Hero Cries "ENDLESS!"

Doug had already mastered the routine of life in Bluffsburg after having lived there for many thousands of lifetimes. He saw the all too familiar sight of Roger Klotz leaning on the whitewash fence between the school play ground and the newly constructed condominium housing units that dotted it's border. He relished the simple prank that he had preformed so many times before. Roger, unsuspecting and naive, so naive, didn't even notice the large american bullfrog had found its way into his tattered leather jacket's inside pocket. Where he reached in to find his prozed comb and came up with a squirming amphibian in hand Doug could barely suppress his laughter. Roger had, this time around, been the punching bag for Doug's frustration with the cycle, and honestly had become something of a wreck. He had the look of a hunted man at most times, even when sleeping, which Doug frequently observed from a clever fort constructed in Roger's long forgotten attic, the boy was fitful and often awoke with a yelp of terror.

[doug torments roger here]

Chapter Three: Bud takes off his shirt

Mr Dink quietly but furiously masturbates, His tears seep into his collar but he cannot stop. DAMN THAT TIPPY DINK. DAMN HER BID FOR MAYOR. HOW DID SHE NOT SEE EX-MAYOR WHITE WOULD NOT STAND IT. Now Bud was all alone... God damn you White... GOD DAMN YOU! Then he had to clean up. Mr Dink has finally strangled his penis to death. Now to strangle the Ex Mayor...

It had been weeks since it had happened. Tippi shot down in the middle of Swirly's. The woman he had loved for his whole existence was lost. The reason he existed and the cause for his very heart to beat had been torn from him. That White man will not live to see another day! Bud circled the room like a ravonous dog. His thirst would not be quenched. Not until he `plucked the eyes from that man! Mayor White was behind it all. He had to be! Who else would take his sweet sweet Tippi from him!

Luckily at this time Bud's small neighbor had popped in for a chat. Just yesterday he had been in dire need of help from a man with VERY EXPENSIVE tastes. Needless to say DOUGLAS YANCY FUNNIE had found that man in Bud Dink. Dink found Doug to be a bit of a whiner and more than a little emo but for a errand boy he fit the bill. "Hello Douglas! Come in come in!" Come in indeed...

"Douglas I am in a bit of a bind! Can you help a friend out?" Bud Dink soothed. He knew when to pour on the charm and this was it! Doug sighed once again in that I HAVE BETTER THINGS TO DO way that grinded Dink's gears. _This arrogant little shit better fall in line... Bud Dink wont be taking sass today! _Still he had his uses. Getting into the town hall was important. He had to do it for her... HE HAD TO

"Aw Mr Dink I'm kinda having a rough day!" Bud Dink's colon tears in half at the GALL of this brat but still... KEEPING IT CALM ON THE OUTSIDE he steps forward with a fancy new gadget he knew the little shit would be wanting. "Come now Douglas! Perhaps we can make a trade..." Dink lifted the small helmet object high to impress doug. It didnt take much.

The boy began rambling incoherently about how he needed JUST THAT ITEM to win a sack race or stitch together his sisters dress or go ice skating with some SKEETER BOY. Dink nearly said "see you later boy" because Doug wasnt good enough for him. Douglas came around to his way of thinking quickly enough, Doug would meet him at the Honker Burger later that night and then after a spot of brunch he would help get him in. THEN THAT MAN WOULD PAY...

Interlude: Did You Ever Notice That Skeeter Says HONK? MSPA STOLE FROM DOUG!

"Hahaha, what do you think would happen if Hussie included Skeeter in the comic? Like Gamzee comes back from the dead and he becomes in love with Skeeter because of his affinity for honkers," said Doug. He shifted his weight to the right. "Also, what if you had your own character in MSPA? That would be so freaking cool. Yeah, I would definitely have time powers. Time powers are really cool, I'd probably be a lot like Dave, but more into anime instead of irony." Doug shifted his weight back to the left.

Chapter Four: Dink Takes Action

The rage inside Bud Dink's pancreas had simmered witht he cool anticipation of bloodshed, Doug had managed to wrangle his gang of rainbow colored hooligans to help out just as planned. None of them could have ever known what would happen tonight. They were all under the assumption that Dink was attempting to get in to retrieve his wife's wedding ring she had misplaced in the building days before her murder. THEY COULD NEVER HAVE GUESSED. The pain tore at his sides, soon it would end. Soon it would all be over.

Once they reached the gates the blonde girl and her fetching purple snob friend went off to distract the guards. They would play a important part in keeping the fuzz off Bud's back while he got business done. The string bean was a ugly mess of bones and did not fetch Bud's eye for even the most cursory of glances but the young rich lass envoked deep memories of his days as a boy. His courtship of Tippi was a long and torrid affair. NO. NO MORE THINKING ABOUT HER! IT WILL ONLY SLOW YOU DOWN! YOU HAVE TO BE STRONGER! BETTER! DAMN IT BUD!

Dink sent out the second squad of Douglas, his filthy flea bitten monster of a pet, and the only thing on this planet dumber than the two of them. Some blue kid who made weird mouth noises. The moment Bud Dink met him he knew someday he would murder this kid. No matter what. Once the streets ran RED with WHITE it would only make sense to be patriotic and add some BLUE.

When they left it was only Bud and some green haired little shit. He introduced his name as Chaulky but god knows that was only what his immigrant parents renamed him when they floated their pontoon boat overfrom Yakoslovia! His name is probably Benjorhgn or some other unholy abomination of gods language.

He hefted himself over the stone wall and reached down for Bud's hand. White... YOU BETTER PRAY! BUD DINK IS ON HIS WAY.

Chapter Five: The Butcher of Bluffington

Dink hid himself around the wall of the main office. That bastard shot CHAULKY! He's going to pay for taking out the one other person in the world who understood what it was to be "DINK". How could you know! HOW COULD YOU KNOW HE WAS YOUR SON! YOU WERE ON LEAVE! WHY WOULDNT TIPPI TELL YOU! NO! Cannot think about it! The boy is dead. Tippi is dead. NOW ALL THATS LEFT IS TO KILL EX-MAYOR WHITE!

Dink rolled from cover with his shotgun ready. The explosive rounds in the barrel were very expensive. They shot fair and true tearing up the overturned desk that cowering monster was hiding behind. Dink hopped up to his feet only to have a bullet tear through his side. THE PAIN CEASED. Dink dove back into cover and looked over the damage to his side. That damned inflated liver has throbbed for the last time.

"COME OUT WHITE! I JUST WANT TO VOTE FOR YOU!" The scream of anger caught white off guard. He dropped a shell as he reloaded his pistol giving away he was not able to fire. Dink stood once again. NOW IT ENDS. TIPPI AND CHAULKY... NO BUD JUNIOR! Bud knew they were BOTH WAITING FOR HIM! KEEPING A LADY WAITING IS BAD FORM!

In one solid motion Dink sprinted forward just as white snapped the pistol shut and shot up to shoot his attacker. Dink felt minor stings as the bullets entered him but it was nothing compared to the feeling of PAIN he felt BEFORE. THE PAIN HAD CEASED. The gun in Dink's hand rose high and fast striking white across the forehead knocking him back. White's eyes widened in shock as it dawned on him. He was going to die. Dink leapt forward and wrapped his perfectly maintained teeth around whites neck,

White may have felt the pain of his neck being torn away from his body and blood shooting everywhere. He may have not. Either way his body sank to the floor dead by the time it struck ground. Dink spat out a pulpy chunk of gore. His face now covered in blood and... a look of peace. Tippi was avenged. Now Bluffington will be at peace once more. Still... One last thing to do.

Bud sauntered over to the nearest balcony and looked down. The crowds were gathering closely to the building... perfect. Dinks life left his body and he sank over the edge of the balcony. His body slamming down hard after a hundred foot drop onto SKEETER VALENTINE. His work was done.

Chapter Six: Doug Funney Reflects Upon the Certain Satisfaction of Holding a Man's Life in One's Hand

Doug didn't care that everyone could see his clumsy open mouth kiss, given selflessly to his best friend as he died. He didn't care and he was going to make sure that they didn't care for long either. He smiled deleriously and wiped the mucusly blood from his pasty lips.

Dink's demise is just one of a HUNDRED situations Doug has had time to plan for over the years. Dink dieing in a blaze of glory has happened countless times in his past lives and it'll happen again next time... unless of course the plan for this life works. The fools around him had no clue of his true powers as he reached for Dink's shotgun. They would soon know. Wipping around he loaded the shotgun. It didnt patter how fast or how slow he did it they would not move. All these years had made him a master of time it

Chapter Seven: Doug's Imaginatin Paints a Scene Far Different than the Reality of The Situation, He is Struck With Aprehension.

Doug could see it now, Patty would see the bodies in their hastily filled, shallow graves and assume the worst. In the deepest machinations of his mind he saw her silhoutted against a hellish burning sky; she looked down over Doug, dresses as the court's jester and embarrased with many stains of flourescant semen smeared across his fanicful dress. She herself was made to be queen of his very torment and with a thundering voice, she proclaims to a jury of his peers, "What do you make of this pathetic creature? I ask you court, can I ever give my heart to a miserable little beast such as the one lay before me?" Then she burst out laughing, and as she did several snakes made of twisted strands of his own intestines bagan to smother and suffocate him, but death would not come. She crossed in front of her throne of ivory bone and kicked a pile of ash into his gaping mouth. She spoke, "Jury, what shall we do with lesser men such as this one? I submit that we roast the beast or slash it's chubby throat before an altar of fire, anything more would do it an honor undeserved."

Doug tried to speak through the heavily bitter ash and blood erupting from his throat, "Patty, please!"

She looked down at him with eye so completely foreign and filled with disgust that he instantly began to sob, not even waiting for her response, which came just seconds later, "You dare speak to me? YOU DARE SPEAK TO ME?"

He whimpered and writhed in the clutches of his own bodily snares, and as she signalled a pack of beasts, twisted facades of his own family dog and an eerily smiling mockery of what could only be seen as Roger Klotz's beloved cat, he wet himself twice and felt his favorite shorts swell and moisten with a bowel's load of fresh excrament. As the beasts tore him limb from limb he was able to spot his beloved Patty Mayonaise locked in throws of passion as the boys of Bluffsburg Middle School unceremoniously undressed and each took a dagger from a mound of rust speckled dirt and went to work in more than one way on the girl to whom his heart eternally belonged.

Doug shook his head and came back to reality, "I won't let it happen that way, I can't let Patty see these corpses!"

[doug feverishly works to cover his mistakes here]

Chapter Eight: Roger Klotz, Temporal Deity Unleashed

[roger klotz undoes doug's hard work and ruins doug's life here]

Chapter Nine: Man's Best Friend, God's Worst Enemy

[doug says goodbye to porkchop here]

Doug looked into Porkchop's sullen canine eyes and sighed lustfully. If he didn't consider the dog family he would have submitted to the call of the wild many moon ago. But alas it was not meant to be, Patty had captured Doug's heart, she had always had it, and Porkchop's advances were too little too late. He locked the dog in a small container measuring 2x2x4 feet and then locked that container in the dimly lit basement. He did not turn back to say farewell to the loyal friend of many years. His tears shimmered like pearls on the carribean seabed, as seen from afar by the villagers huts on the rocky cliffs Porkchop was okay in the end, he didn't die or anything!

Doug hitched the rope to the rafter above, securing it firmly with the knots Mr. Dink had patiently taught him. He drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. This was it. He went into this with pretty high expectations, but unfortunately, he ended up choking himself during orgasm and his family had to deal with the shame of discovering his body. This is the fate of all who walk the path of the sexual deviant.

Skeeter Valentine: "literally obsessed with dicks"

Chapter Nine: Call Me Bones

I've decided to keep a journal of events detailing my investigation of the scene which had unfolded in Bluffsburg over the last 96 hours. I am not a trained detective, nor am I a great scholar, but I am the last remaining person in this town who still draws breath. I have taken it upon myself to report my findings to the outside world, grim as they may be.

I hope that these entries in my journal can act as something of a PERMANENT RECORD.

As to my persistance through death and continued will to survive, I can only attribute it to sheer luck. The last handful of days were unknown to me, as I was deep in my newly constructed bunker. I had the small room built as something of a compromise with my neighbors who had filed several complaints over the volume of my many yodeling sessions. I was unwilling to part ways with the honorable art and so there was a fund raising event, many handshakes and congratulations and I was left with a concrete barrier 6 feet thick, 20 yards under the heavily loam laden crust of Bluffsburg's fine geological crust. I had commited myself to a three week retreat to the bunker when the world ended, and subsequently missed everything and yet live to tell about the chaos left behind.

When I first emerged from my inadvertant hiding spot I was alarmed by the weight of the steel hatch that led to the croner of my modest back yard, after several hours of struggling and the assumption of many awkward positions I was able to shove loose the cover and peer outside. I can only assure you that my horror was complete and all-ecompasing. Hundreds of bodies were piled in the posterior of my abode with little regard for sanitation or for that matter sanity. Many burned brightly and the stench, stench being a mere shade of a word in describing the actual smell that still clings to my every hair and fiber of clothing, caused me to vomit several times in succession into first a birdbath left to me by my late mother and then into the planters and fenced gardens I had so carefully maintained when my life was more simple.

For half a day I lay in exhaustion and grief next to those charred remains and watched as the sky remained a luminous shifting grey, never seeming to submit to night or allow the day's sun to emerge. I came to my senses at some point and surveyed my house. It was mostly intact save for a handful of windows and an overflow of bileous substance from every open drain. I organized my room out of habit, arranged the many yodeling trophies I had fought nail and tooth for over the last 25 years, and retrieved a simple pistol from a loose floorboard that my bed's bottom right leg ould normally stand firmly over. I loaded it and did my best to determine it to be in working condition, despite no training nor aptitude for the machine's function.

I would not need it. Over the next 48 hours I searched every building in the small town I once called home and found not a single survivor. I rested overnight at the most significant place of slaughter, city hall was filled with my former students and in the main hallway I found the mangled corpse of the boy I would often cite as my favorite student. He was athletic but not ignorant of the finer arts: math, science, the delicate structures of the english language. He was grazed twice on his ribs and long strands of his connected organs had worked their way out onto the grimy floor. His face was made imprefect by the entry wound of a bullet unknown. The back of his head was caving inwards from lack of substance and I'm not ashamed to admit that I held him to my chest and wept over the loss. My camp was set there, so that I could observe him when sleep could not comfort me.

[Mr. Bone explores the town here, there is no hope]

Epilouge: Accidental, Just As Life Came To Be

Doug stretched out his open hand to sit in front of his face, and then he squeezed. It fascinated him, really, the simple movement of the fingers. They were his fingers, something he could really lay claim to, like a heart could be, but not all hearts fell into his domain.

The glass on the pavement stung him terribly. Like glass bees he thought. Like glass ants eating away at his skin. He couldn't see much more than his own hand and the endless expanse of pavement before him. He could feel heat on the back of his legs, he could smell an acrid fire burning perhaps, he felt like it was a big fire, but it wasn't for him to know.

There was a noise too, far far away, a noise that sounded like a baby crying. Like a baby who was crying and then time rewound and the baby was happy again for a second. Over and over it cried.

He didn't want to face that he was dying, but there was no imgiantion left to fall back on and save him from the situation. Just before he had dreamed that he was living life again and again, just like the cry of that baby. But even now the knowledge he hadd gained over those 4000 odd years was flowing away from him, or was it he that was falling away from everything he had accomplished?

The question did not stay with him for long.


End file.
